


can't take my eyes off you

by maguna_stxrk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maguna_stxrk/pseuds/maguna_stxrk
Summary: “When you’re tired, you do this slow blinking thing that is really adorable,” Steve muses as he smiles to himself, lost in thought. “And whenever you head for the coffee pot, I like to look out for this happy little noise you always make when you take your first sip and—”Tony makes a strangled noise.“You get the gist,” Steve mumbles weakly, cheeks a lovely shade of pink. “Please don’t make me say more.”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 364





	can't take my eyes off you

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr as a response to the following dialogue prompt: “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” (from [this list](https://maguna-stxrk.tumblr.com/post/619870842557546496/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you))

“Goddammit, that’s it.”

Standing from where he was seated on one of the stools by the kitchen island, Tony makes his way over to Steve, who is sitting at the dining table. Laid out in front of him is an open sketchbook, faint pencil lines making up a crude shape that is too early in its production for Tony to identify. Looking up at Tony from his seat across the table, Steve’s features are bathed in the orange glow of the late afternoon sunset.

Tony was walking into the kitchen to get his caffeine fix when it happened again. Steve had been drawing in his beloved sketchbook, but Tony heard the way the distant sound of pencil strokes ceased immediately when he walked in. He tried to ignore it and continued to pour coffee into his mug, but eventually temptation got the better of him. He looked over and sure enough, he found Steve staring at him once again. The moment Tony met his gaze, however, Steve’s eyes fell down to his sketchbook.

This time, Tony has had enough. He is entering the forty-first hour of a workshop binge, sleep-deprived, and running on what has so far been a grand total of nine cups of coffee. He is tired and grumpy and he is going to get to the bottom of this even if it’s the last thing he does. He has been patient enough to wait for Steve to tell him, but Tony has just decided that all of this needs to end  _ now. _

He slams a hand down on the table. Steve jumps, visibly startled.

“What is it?” Tony demands.

“What is what?” Steve eyes him apprehensively, eyebrows creased together. The man is six feet of pure muscle; he has no right to look that adorable when confused. 

“Come on,” Tony says, waving his hand in a beckoning motion, “lay it on me.”

“Lay what on you?” Steve asks, head tilted slightly to the side.

_ He looks like a confused golden retriever puppy,  _ his brain supplies unhelpfully. 

Tony shakes his head and resumes his very important task of glaring Steve into submission. 

“Clearly something’s been bothering you. Something about me. What is it this time? My recklessness on the field? How horrible of a team player I am?” Tony squints at Steve, body leaning forward across the table separating them. “Come on, yell at me. Get it out of your system.”

“What? I don’t want… to yell at you,” Steve says slowly.

“Well, that’s a first.” Tony scowls. “So, what is it?”

“I don’t—” 

“And don’t say that it’s nothing, because I’ve _seen_ the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes and Tony sees realization dawning in his eyes. “It’s… nothing.”

Tony makes an incredulous face. “Did you not _hear_ what I just _said?”_

Steve stands up abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor. He flips his sketchbook closed, slipping the pencil into its spiral binding. His movements are hurried. 

“Sorry, I need to go—” 

“Hey, no.” Tony rounds the table swiftly and blocks Steve’s path. “I’m not letting you walk away before you tell me what it is.”

“It’s really nothing.” Steve sighs, but he is looking at anywhere but Tony so Tony knows that he is on to something here. 

“Just spit it out, Steve.” Tony crosses his arms, determined to stand his ground.

Steve tries to sidestep Tony but Tony meets him every time, preventing his escape. Tony levels him with an unimpressed look. Seeing that Tony is not backing down any time soon, Steve finally stills. He stares at Tony for a few seconds before letting out a long and shaky breath. Tony frowns, growing increasingly impatient.

“Dammit, what is it—” 

“You’re beautiful, okay?” Steve blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t stop staring at you because I find you… beautiful.”

Tony blinks at him. He looks down at himself and blinks again. 

Don’t get him wrong, Tony knows how attractive he can be dressed in an expensive suit with his hair immaculately styled—a look that does wonders to charm various business associates, the public, as well as the long line of supermodels he used to invite to warm his bed back in his more adventurous days.

At the moment, however, he is dressed in a faded T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting plaid pajama pants. He tends to go for comfort over style at home—like any normal person—no matter how mismatched his outfit may end up being. He has motor oil stains all over his body and he is pretty sure that he has even managed to get some in his hair. He smells like sweat and metal. To put it mildly, he doesn’t exactly look very well put together, let alone to warrant the use of the word “beautiful”.

Therefore, he concludes that there must be only one logical explanation here, which is:

“Steve, did you hit your head somewhere?” Tony questions, genuinely concerned. “I literally haven’t showered in almost two days. I’m wearing  _ pajama pants.” _

Steve looks slightly affronted at that, opening his mouth once before closing it again. His jaw flutters in frustration. 

“My head is  _ fine,” _ Steve says. He looks straight into Tony’s eyes, like he needs Tony to understand what he is about to say.

“I always find you beautiful regardless of what you’re wearing. But…” Steve trails off hesitantly, as if he is deciding whether or not to voice out the thoughts running through his mind, or like he has already decided on telling Tony but is still working out the best way to say it. 

He must have arrived at some kind of decision after a few moments of quiet deliberation, because Tony watches as Steve takes a deep breath and stands up straight with renewed determination, soldiering on:

“You look comfortable and relaxed like this, when you’re at home,” Steve says, eyes flitting down to Tony’s AC/DC T-shirt, “and your hair looks really soft without product in it.”

“When you’re tired, you do this slow blinking thing that is really adorable,” Steve muses as he smiles to himself, lost in thought. “And whenever you head for the coffee pot, I like to look out for this happy little noise you always make when you take your first sip and—” 

Tony makes a strangled noise. Steve’s eyes snap up to look at him and the smile on his face disappears in an instant, like somehow in the short span of time he has spent listing off the little things that he thinks make Tony beautiful he has forgotten that Tony has actually been standing  _ right there,  _ in front of him, the entire time. 

“You get the gist,” Steve mumbles weakly, cheeks a lovely shade of pink. “Please don’t make me say more.”

Meanwhile, Tony is still blatantly staring at him, trying to remind himself that breathing is a thing.

“I’m really sorry, Tony. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just need some time to get over it, I swear.” Steve looks down at his feet, fingers curled into tight fists at his side. His broad shoulders are slightly hunched forward, like he is trying to make himself look smaller. All in all, he looks not unlike a child that is being chastised for a mistake.

Even as Tony’s brain is reeling from this onslaught of new information, his heart is already going wild—carelessly jumping to conclusions of what these revelations might mean—and Tony tries his best to shove down the hope back where it belongs.

“Get over… it?” Tony asks, very cautiously.

“This. My feelings.” Steve swallows. “...You.”

Oh.  _ Oh. _ __

Tony clears his throat and feels the back of his neck heating up. “Uh, you see, that— That would be… inconvenient.”

Steve meets his eyes curiously, his embarrassment momentarily taking a backseat to confusion.

“You getting over me would be highly inconvenient,” Tony clarifies.

“How so?” Steve asks, voice small and timid.

“Well, because…”

Stepping closer to Steve, Tony delights in Steve’s immediate reaction to the close proximity—breath turning ragged and cheeks flushing an even darker shade of pink.

Ocean blue eyes that Tony has seen carrying virtually every single emotion imaginable are now filled with a delicate mix of emotions that Tony has never seen Steve direct at him before. There is hope there, but fear, too. Steve is looking at him like his fate is hanging in the balance and Tony is the only person with the power to tip the scales one way or the other. 

There is also love. He thinks that there might have always been love in the way Steve looks at him. Tony just never really noticed before. 

No. He had never _allowed_ himself to notice, never let himself look for something he had been sure would never be there.

For the first time in forever, Tony allows hope to bloom fiercely within him, its tendrils spreading out through his entire body, warming him from the inside out. 

He looks up at Steve with a careful smile, his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. 

“I happen to think you’re beautiful, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr [@maguna-stxrk](https://maguna-stxrk.tumblr.com/) and let's talk all things stevetony! :)


End file.
